


The Mask That's Polished in the Evening

by grandeicedcoffees



Category: My Own Private Idaho (1991)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Scott-Centric, Set before the Movie, Thunderstorms, slight Mike/Scott
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:48:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24688666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grandeicedcoffees/pseuds/grandeicedcoffees
Summary: A thunderstorm rolls over Portland. Scott feels reflective.
Relationships: Scott Favor/Mike Waters
Comments: 1
Kudos: 42





	The Mask That's Polished in the Evening

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Lua by Bright Eyes.

Scott slides out of the window from the room he and Mike share at Jane’s. It’s not really _theirs,_ of course--anyone could use it, but it’s become somewhat of an unspoken rule that the regulars have their own rooms.

There’s an emotion Scott is unfamiliar with growing in his chest. He gazes out at the city from the fire escape. It’s overcast, as usual, but the clouds are darker than they normally are.

In the distance, he can see his old neighbourhood, lording over the rest of the town. He stares for a moment, then stares at his feet, balling a hand into a fist momentarily.

It’s been quiet at Jane’s the last few days. With Gary and Digger both gone to Seattle with a wealthy john, and Bob and Budd traipsing off to God-knows-where, there’s been a great lack of schemes and camaraderie that usually comes from staying at the derelict hotel.

Mike is still in the city, but he’s been loping in and out, trying to get picked up for some extra cash. Scott hasn’t been in the mood lately, choosing instead to stay in their room or nearby the hotel, reading, listening to cassette tapes and thinking. He’s grown lonely without the chaos of the little gang to distract him.

Scott sits down on the metal surface, extending his legs up towards the railing and leaning back against the brick. He takes a deep breath of the cool air brought in by the coming storm, and sighs loudly. Closing his eyes, he tilts his head back and tries to clear his head for a moment of peace.

Mike’s voice interrupts Scott’s calm, but he’s happy to hear it.

“Scott, do we have any food?”

Scott opens his eyes and turns to see Mike’s head poking out of the window, hair somehow defying gravity.

“We should, man,” Scott replies, pulling his legs down. “There should be some canned stuff in the box under the bed. Some veggies and stuff,”

“Thanks, man.” Mike looks at Scott for a minute. “You should come inside, you know. The rain’s coming this way.”

“I kinda want to be outside for it,” Scott says. He looks up at the dark sky. “You think you can bring me the tarp?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

Scott can hear Mike rustling around inside for a moment, opening his can and grabbing the tarp. He picks at a hangnail on his thumb, bringing it to his mouth and biting it off.

He gets up as Mike comes back with the tarp, taking it from him and climbing up a flight to drape the plastic over the floor of the fire escape above them to keep them dry from the incoming rain. He sits back down, and Mike sits next to him, using a plastic spoon to eat the slightly sweet mixed vegetables.

Scott turns his head to regard Mike. He’s known the boy for just barely two years now, and somehow, he feels more endeared to him by the day. He takes in how Mike’s head is pushed forward as he eats, so he’s less likely to spill on his shirt. Scott smiles fondly.

“What?” Mike asks, with food still in his mouth.

Scott laughs quietly.

“What, man?” Mike insists. “What’s the problem?”

“Nothing! Nothing. I’m just happy you’re here, man.”

Mike gives a small smile. “What happened around here today? Anything good?”

“Nah, it’s pretty boring with everyone gone right now. Played cards with Jane for a little bit. For a little old lady, she’s ruthless at poker.” Scott laughs a little bit, and Mike joins in.

“You owe her money now, or what?”

“Not quite yet,” Scott laughs again.

They start to hear the rain pattering against the tarp overhead. There is silence for a few minutes, except for the sound of Mike’s spoon scraping against the sides of the can.

Mike eventually breaks it. “Hey,” he starts.

Scott turns to look at him, curious.

“How come you haven’t been coming out lately?” Mike asks, hesitant. “To the restaurant too, not, not just out to the streets… it’s okay, I don’t mind, I know you don’t always want to, but… is everything—is everything okay?”

Scott doesn’t look at Mike for a moment, still staring ahead of him at the rain. Thunder rumbles lowly in the distance, shaking the fire escape slightly. He sighs softly and shifts, so his legs are over the edge of the grate. He’s pressing his forehead against the wet metal railing, staring.

“Scott?”

He looks down at his lap and bites the inside of his cheek. “I’m okay. I just… I’ve been thinking too much. I’ve been out here for two years, you know?”

“Damn. It’s been that long already?”

“Yeah. It doesn’t feel like it to me either. But it’s not just that I’ve been thinking about.” Scott lets out a long sigh. “It’s been two years since I’ve been on out here, but it’s been three since my dad kicked me out.”

“What?”

“He let me come back,” Scott quickly amends, “but I was fifteen. I was a kid, and I wasn’t close enough with anyone to ask to stay with them or explain what happened.”

He trails off, still not looking to Mike, picking at the hangnail on his thumb instead. His stomach is twisting itself in knots, he’s so unused to talking about his past with anyone.

“W-why did—why did he kick you out?” Mike asks quietly, not wanting to overstep.

Scott lets out a mirthless laugh, shaking his head bitterly and rolling his eyes. “I _embarrassed_ him at an important function. It was dinner with the governor, and I let slip something personal about him and my mom that I had overheard.”

Suddenly, he rears back and smacks the railing, shaking water droplets off and onto his jeans.

Mike shuffles back in shock, never having seen Scott so out of control.

“Fuck,” Scott says apologetically. “Sorry for dumping all this on you.” His voice is softer, though his hand is clenched in a white-knuckled fist on his thigh.

“No, I don’t mind,” Mike murmurs, settling back down. “So he just kicked you out after that? Just for that?”

“Well,” Scott scoffs, “I had also told him I’d joined the drama club a couple days before, and I could tell he wasn’t too pleased about that.”

A moment of silence is overtaken by a clap of thunder, closer now than it had been in the minutes before. The rain is harder on the tarp overhead.

“He’d called me a fairy for that, ‘nd some other things,” Scott mutters. He’s playing with the frayed threads at a hole in his jeans, pulling at them.

“Shit, man, I’m sorry.” Mike lifts his arm to comfort Scott, rub his shoulder or wrap his arm around him, but drops it. Scott usually isn’t comfortable with too much touching.

Scott shrugs. “Wasn’t the first time. I kind of knew something was coming, you know? His face went so red when he heard me say that at that dinner, I knew it was bad. But then next morning I came down for breakfast, and he told me I had half an hour to leave.”

Scott’s voice breaks, and he looks down in his lap. He clenches his jaw, trying to keep the tears from his eyes. His face feels hot, and he’s not sure why he’s sharing all of this now.

Mike isn’t fully sure what to say. Seeing Scott this distraught and open about his past is new to him. He opens his mouth before closing it again, pausing before speaking.

“Where did you go?”

“Nowhere, really. I wandered a lot. By nighttime I had made it down here.” He smirks. “I actually think I met Budd that night,”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah.” Scott lets out a small laugh. “He definitely wouldn’t remember. But I was sitting on the side of the street, and he came over and told me where the nearest Y was. Saved me from sleeping on the sidewalk.”

Mike nods, a little in awe of what Scott is telling him. He’s always been so secretive, it’s surprising to hear about the past he’s worked so hard to hide.

“D’you have a cig, man?” Scott asks abruptly, taking Mike a little by surprise. Scott doesn’t usually smoke.

“Yeah,” Mike says breathlessly, pulling his pack out of his jacket pocket. Scott grabs his lighter, bright red, from his own pocket, and cups a hand around the flame as he lights it, then offers the lighter to Mike.

As Mike is lighting his cigarette, Scott leans back on one hand, taking his first drag of his own. He rolls his shoulders, feeling the denim of his jacket move broadly against his back. He can feel Mike’s eyes on him and meets his gaze as he reaches out for his lighter back.

“Scott, I had no idea, I—”

“’t’s okay, Mikey,” Scott shakes his head. “Good ol’ Jack Favor sent some cops to come find me after a week and a half, after my school started calling. Couldn’t have his son with a delinquent record, after all…”

He trails off, his voice breaking. His eyes are starting to well up, and he looks up, blinking fast. He’s trying desperately to detach himself from what he’s feeling, breathing so quickly and so heavily that Mike is suddenly worried he’s hyperventilating.

He chokes back a sob as he can feel the first few hot tears running down his face, and he crumples in on himself, bringing his knees up to his chest.

Mike doesn’t stop himself this time, reaching over to pull Scott towards him. Scott comes willingly, his head resting on Mike’s shoulder. He realizes that he’s sobbing, for the first time in years. He buries his face further into Mike’s shoulder, his tears wetting the soft fabric as Mike rubs his back and shoulder.

Scott’s cries rack his body, his shoulders heaving with each new sob, his stomach beginning to hurt from it. He has trouble catching his breath, taking in deep gasps only to choke on them partway through.

“I’m sorry, man. I’m so sorry.” Mike is getting choked up too. He can’t help but feel for his best friend. His own mother had disappeared too, after all, leaving Mike to wonder the very same things he knew Scott was wondering. They were both haunted by the fear that they weren’t enough, that their existence was somehow shameful to their families.

“I tried!” Scott practically screams. He extends his legs again, bringing his fist down on the grate below him. His face is red, his eyes puffy from crying, and he angrily swipes at his tears.

“I tried for so long,” he continues, rambling. “I tried to be what I thought he wanted, and he didn’t care, and when I started not caring what he wanted, he didn’t care. He doesn’t care about me! He doesn’t give a goddamn shit!”

“Fuck him, man,” Mike says confidently, pulling Scott tighter against his body. “I care about you. I give a shit.”

Scott can feel when Mike pulls back, and turns his face up to look at him, tears still shining in his dark eyes.

“I give a shit about you, Scotty,” Mike says, more softly now.

Scott gives him a weak smile. “Thanks, man.”

He coughs and seems to return to himself, embarrassed by his outburst. His voice is hoarse from crying, and he sniffs again. He bites his lip and takes a drag of his cigarette just as thunder rumbles overhead. He shifts himself closer into Mike’s side, pressing his face to his shoulder, feeling warmed by Mike’s arm around him.

Mike turns his head and presses his nose to Scott’s hair, giving his temple a kiss before thinking about it too much. He almost freezes, unsure of how Scott will react to such an open display of affection, but he just leans further into Mike’s touch.

“I got you, man. I got you,” Mike says, squeezing his shoulder again.

Scott slowly calms down and turns his head to look out at the city. The downpour hasn’t let up. The sky as dark as it would be at night. He’s never felt as safe as he does with Mike’s arm around him.

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thank you to @satinrevolver for editing for me!


End file.
